


The Bard and The Witcher

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmates, can be read as platonic, narrator Jaskier, not sure how to tag this but please read it?, song fic with a mind of its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: Some live their entire lives either never meeting their partner or they are in close enough proximity with them that they never feel the negative effects that lead to knowing one’s soulmate. When you leave your soulmate your soul stays behind with them (See the final note). Likewise theirs remains with you. Should you and your soulmate become separated by great distances and time it is likely that both parties will die unless they are reunited. This near death experience is often the only way to know your soulmate.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 169





	The Bard and The Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> This story was highly inspired by "Welly Boots" by The Amazing Devil. If it looks like a line came from the song it probably did! There is one or two direct quotes, and a lot of pulls. So if it even looks like it came from the song it did and give full credit and praise to Joey Batey and the rest of The Amazing Devil for creating it! 
> 
> Also this I realize is a song-fic turned soulmate au, fix-it- fic gone wild. I reference A few other soulmate tropes early on, and I don't remember where they all came from. If you recognize them and know where they came from will you pretty please drop me a comment so I can give proper respects to the authors and make sure to cite/source/ recommend them properly??? 
> 
> Shout out to Thatrandomace who wrote "And The Sky Was Finally Blue" I make mention of the trope from this story in mine. It's an excellent story go read it. :) 
> 
> Thank you all so much! I hope you like this one. Cross posted on tumblr at SennexTheAssasinKing
> 
> Thank you NerdyNix for the beta read and encouraging the concept!

Everyone has a soulmate, this isn’t something that is debated. It is a fact. Everyone thinks that you know your soulmate by words written like ink on skin, by a symbol that represents them, by seeing color or the color of your soulmates eyes, by the way they smell, or any number of other methods. The truth is, when you meet your soulmate your souls become tied. Most people do not notice this event.There is no outward change, you may not be romantically inclined or involved with your soulmate. Some live their entire lives either never meeting their partner or they are in close enough proximity with them that they never feel the negative effects that lead to knowing one’s soulmate. When you leave your soulmate your soul stays behind with them (See the final note). Likewise theirs remains with you. Should you and your soulmate become separated by great distances and time it is likely that both parties will die unless they are reunited. This near death experience is often the only way to know your soulmate. 

Sometimes if one partner is recorded as being especially strong or especially emotionless then they often survive the separation. Witchers, for instance, always survive this separation while their partners do not. It is thought this is because of their mutinigans or perhaps because of their training. Whatever the reason, it is unknown. You may be wondering if there is any other way than this near death experience for soulmates to know if they’ve met. There is not, save perhaps the whispering of children. Usually one does not know about their soul tie until they’ve begun to die, after they have seperated. However, there is time to be reunited before death occurs. 

Separated, soulmates often state that they noticed changes in their behaviors. Those that were reunited noted that they believe the changes in themselves were those that their partner records as having lost. It starts as a little thing, with their souls not near, they begin to lose parts of themselves. It may be as simple as a desire that is usually very strong, such as the desire to watch the sunrise, and then it will grow until parts of their very beings fade. By then it is often too late to find one's soulmate. For most, they have but two months when they’ve begun to lose their essence, their main personality traits, their desire and will to live. It is of note that some scholars believe that the soul left behind often manifests as a ghost, a spirit or spectre, that cannot be killed by a Witcher or otherwise. 

Should members of the soul tie find one another all damage is repairable over time. In one another's company they often grow stronger and healthier. Note, that the length of time recorded for members of a soul tie to die is veritable and has been reported to change depending on three major aspects of the partners relationship. The first is the length and duration of time the soulmates have known one another, the intimacy of their relationship regardless of its nature (Romantic or otherwise), and the way by which they depart from one another’s company. 

Should soulmates meet briefly and in passing they are likely to live a near normal duration of life. This is believed to be because the souls have become tangled but do not know the others as more than a stranger passing by. These often go unnoticed, and undocumented. As such there is little more to be said on the matter. Also note, because soulmate relationships are not always intimate, that this may play a part in strangers meetings. How can one be tied to one they do not know? 

Should soulmates know one another for a long time and depart on loving and mutual terms it takes a much longer duration of time for the soulmates to pass. They often are not burdened by personality changes or the other effects of the separation, especially if the intent to reunite is strong between both parties. 

Should they know one another for a long period of time and depart in anger, and non mutual desire, death is likely to arrive much quicker for both parties. 

It is often recorded that in such cases where the soulmates have known one another for long periods of time that as they die and their desires fade, they take on and exchange traits with their soulmate. We speculate that this is the way by which the gods may attempt to draw soulmates back to one another. It is usually subtle and unless soulmates recognize these traits they may never be reunited with their partners. However, if they do recognize the traits, and ‘hauntings’ of the others spirit, they may yet have time to reunite. 

One final note on soulmates, it is believed strongly that children, newborns to slightly older children , 0-7 can see your soulmate's spirit as it follows you. Consistent reports from children is what leads to the belief that the hauntings that soulmates report in their partners absence is in fact their soulmates soul. Some rare adults have also reported this phenomenon. Often these adults are free spirits that are not bound by the laws of normalcy and maintain a love for the beauty of the world around them. 

Adults like me, dear reader. 

This is the story of a bard named Jaskier and his witcher Geralt of Rivia.

_The Bard and The Witcher._

At the time of their deplorable and heart wrenching separation neither knew they were so bonded. They had traveled apart at times, sometimes for long increments, but at those times they always intended to reunite even if they were unaware of their own desires. Eventually the days turned to weeks and both remained largely unfazed.

The poet anguished and from his pain brought forth into this world such well-known and beloved songs as “Her Sweet Kiss” among others. He continued to play for courts and taverns, inns, and any who would listen. He played until his voice broke and his fingers ached, he danced until his legs gave way beneath him. Eventually the bard regained himself, though his identity would be forever tied to his witcher. After all, twenty two years of companionship is not so easily forgotten. For a while he returned to teach at oxenfurt as an alumni and one day decided to leave. He would go to the coast. I believe this decision was made when he began to notice the small changes becoming greater, when the soul following him was more attentive.

Alternatively the witcher's anger eventually ebbed away and guilt took its place. He often brooded and sulked as was his custom and habit before the viscount turned bard had begun traveling with him. Often he found himself listening for news of the bard sometimes this made him feel – he would not admit it to anyone – at these times he would find a beast of one kind or another and expand his energy by dispatching it with reckless abandon and unbridled restraint. The result was new scars on an already marred flash.

T’was narry six months past their departure that the Bard and the Witcher began to notice changes in their case, unlike previous recorded cases, the symptoms (shall we call them dear reader?) are more prominent and drastic from the start. We may attribute this to the very passionate nature of the lover bard and the overprotective silent fondness the witcher most definitely harbors for him. The bard found that he often wanted to speak less and the witcher more. The Bard enjoyed company less, the witcher more. These were not subtle changes. The bard knowing and putting stock in the romanticized records that detail most accurately the tales of soulmates drew but one conclusion: That he had known his soulmate intimately and was now separate from them. It would be a little over a year before the full effects began to wear on either.

Even as he descended the mountain the bard felt as though he was being watched. When he looked there was never anything there. It was like there was something in the corner of his eye but when he turned to see it, it would jump out of his line of sight. It was fast. But it was there. He didn’t know what it was, only that there was a presence with him at all times. Whenever he looked in the mirror he’d catch the briefest flash of a shadow. It didn’t frighten him. Sometimes he could swear he could feel the coolest touch against his skin. This touch did not occur often so when it did it often elicited a reaction from the bard. Often the distraction saved him from some kind of dangerous circumstance. When he began to notice the shifts in his personality, he set out for the coast. He knew he hadn’t much time left for the world. 

He arrived at the coast very near sunset. The horizon was painted in golds and reds. He hated it. It made him angry the way gold and red reflected on the water. And yet, there was something haunting and beautiful about it. It reminds him of the day he thinks he left his soulmate behind. He isn’t a fool. He settles in near a village. He doesn’t stay in it. This is easier with his sudden aversion to people. He still composes and he still sings, and plays with all the fervor he ever had. This he hasn’t lost yet. So he knows that while his life is fading and the colors are muting around him, he has time still. 

One night while playing for a gathering in the city square the bard nearly has a heart attack. He’s playing something for the people to dance to. They’ve started asking him to play at event’s like tonight's wedding. So of course he agrees. He’s coming to the end of the song and he fumbles a note, regains his composure and continues. A fellow musician gives him a look but he just shrugs and looks back at the corner of the square occupied by 3 young children and what looks like Geralt, only it can’t be. He’d know if the witcher was here. He can’t hear anything from this distance. So he watches, and then as Geralt turns his back on them to go wherever he intends to go one of them tries to catch him by his leg, the child falls through. Geralt smiles the kind of smile that is reserved for children and on occasion Jaskier. Gently he kneels down and says something. He swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry. He had thought, but now he knew. Geralt was his soulmate and his soul had saved his life, had put shivers down his spine, had walked beside him all these months. He turns back to the musicians. He has to focus. People are looking at him strangely so he smiles too large and sings louder. 

The children approached him sometime later. One of them, a short boy with freckles hands him a light blue Forget Me Not with a Yellow dandelion.

“I was asked to please give these to you. But I can't tell you who told me Mister. He said it was a secret.” Jaskier kneels to be at eye level with them,

“Thank you. I think I know who they are from.” He smiles a bit sadly, eyes soft and understanding. Underneath it all is just a touch of anger. Anger that one man could steal his entire life. He had given it freely enough and then it was tossed aside like a chicken bone after supper. And now, that same man would be the reason for his death. 

“ He also said to tell you,” the little girl chimes in putting her hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her bare feet, “that a storm is coming and you need to make sure you have your books in order.” 

“He said somtin about the orners too.” The other boy, missing a few teeth, says happily. 

“Really? Well I have a way of waterproofing my books when I’m done with a song. Maybe that's what he meant. And you little miss, if a storm is coming you ought to put your storm boots on.”

“I’ve lost em Mister.”

“Lost them? Well then you ought to put on a heavy cloak at least. Else you’ll be soaked right through.” 

Then he stands and corrals them back to their parents. A glance at the horizon tells him that there is a physical storm coming, but the mess in his head and his heart tell him perhaps it’s an entirely different kind of storm. When he returns to his home, a sturdy little shack with a fire pit in the middle, a table and two chairs on one side and bed on the other, a small wardrobe beside it and a small shelf with kitchen supplies, he falls tiredly into his bed. Absently he sets his lute against the wardrobe from his perch atop his blankets. Eventually he sits up and removes his boots. 

“I know you’re there. I saw you with the children earlier. I know you can hear me. I think you can anyways. There aren't many recordings of adults seeing their soulmates' souls. Can you talk to me? Oh come on. Seriously? Is there a rule that says you can’t let me see you? All these months knowing you were there, but never seeing you. Please just come out from wherever you're hiding.” Geralt’s spirit does. It stands before him with a cocked head and calculating gaze. 

“So you can show yourself.” A stiff nod is all the response he gets.   
“Oh. Just as silent then. Or maybe I can’t hear you.” The spirit says something but he can’t hear it. “Well then, at least I can see you I suppose. Does he or, er, you know that we’re bonded?” A hesitation, a scowl, and finally a nod. “ Huh, I wonder if he’ll come looking after me. I mean Witchers don’t die from separation like the rest of us do. He probably doesn’t care enough to bother. Besides he doesn't put much stock in this kind of thing anyways.” The spirit frowns and shakes its head vigorously, but Jaskier only laughs. He is at peace. He won’t go seeking the other out.   
  
He begins to change and the witcher's spirit turns his back.   
“Oh, really. Interesting. Your welcome to stay where I can see you, and you don’t have to, oh whatever. Do as you please.”   
Geralt's soul turns back to him and nods. He perches on the end of Jaskier’s bed that night, and as the days go by he takes to laying beside him with an arm around him. And though Jaskier can’t feel it it is oddly comforting. 

He sees the way the spirit smiles at him when he plays. He can see the way he interacts with the children The little girl from before approaches him while he plays. He leans down to hear her speak. They’re out on the beach collecting shells, and he is just enjoying the day. The salt ruins his strings and he has to take great care in cleaning his instrument when he's done, but it’s worth it to watch the children dance in the sand. 

“He,” she looks over her shoulder at the spectre, “Asked me to tell you he’s proud of you, the way you’ve grown up.” She says giggling and running away. He sputters fingers playing several wrong chords before he stops all together. The witcher's spirit openly laughs at him in silence. Jaskier can’t help but smile back. 

He can feel his desire to play begin to ebb. It won't be long now. This is the most important part of himself. That night he gets drunk and he plays louder and more energetically than he has in a very long time. Suddenly it’s like he is young all over again. He plays and sings with the energy he had when he first began, loud and long into the night. His voice rumbles through the room. Geralt's ghost smiles and watches him from the dark corners of the room. 

Soon after his health begins to fail. He takes to sitting in the small garden he’s made and listening to the waves or remaining in bed. He still plays, gently to himself, but the music doesn’t come as easily as it once did. One of the villagers takes care of him. She asks if she can write anyone for him. If he knows who his soulmate is. He smiles softly, a bit sadly, and weeps. “ He sent me away long ago. I do not think he will come for me, even should a letter find him. Thank you though.” She frowns and leaves him for the day. When she has gone he has conversations with Geralt's ghost. The spirit is sad, and Jaskier understands why. It will remain in this world and he will not. He was very good at working out the other’s meanings. “Don’t look at me like that, you’ll have my soul won’t you? Will it stay here?” The Spirit nods with pursed lips. Unhappy. 

I learned later, dear reader, that at about these same times, a similar occurrence happened with the witcher. 

Geralt often heard one sided conversations around him since being seperated from Jaskier. They always came from children. Young children. Usually they were innocent enough conversations but they made him stop and wonder. Such as the one now. There was no one with these children. They were at their own table in the inn. They kept looking at him and smiling. He smiled back and promptly looked away; he didn’t need upset parents. So he turned his ear toward them instead and listened. 

“What’s it like?”  
“Like snowfall?”  
“Oh. love. Like when momma puts us to bed at night, or kisses my skinned knee?”  
“I get it. That's so magical.”   
“What are you Mister?”  
“A soul?”   
“A musician?”  
“Why can’t anyone else see you?”  
"A soulmate….. yeah I can tell him.” 

“Fuck.” It’s a muttered whisper against his ale. He can put it together easily enough. Jaskier was his soulmate. His soul was speaking to those children and now the oldest, a boy around seven, is stalking toward him. He stiffens.   
“Mister Witcher I was told to tell you, “ That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind  
To those who are not strong and cannot find —”” A surprised mother grabs his shoulders.   
“My Apologies Witcher.”   
“ S’fine.” He mutters with a polite nod. The scent of fear was on her but it was offset by simple uncertainty. Unlike the boy. He’d been unafraid. The next morning he set off into the brisk autumn woods. 

It's been a very long time since he craved interaction with others, but it is more intense these days. He wishes he didn’t know who his soulmate was. It would be so much easier. He knows as a witcher he will survive their separation, and if it were someone else he wouldn’t feel the need to go find them. But this is Jaskier. And though he doesn’t understand why this separation has been the one to make the nature of their relationship known, he knows he can’t let Jaskier die. So he tries to think of where the bard would have gone. He knows he’d been a fool on the mountain. The least he could do was apologize, and stay near enough that Jaskier gets to live his life out completely. He is near Oxenfurt he realizes as he looks at the signpost at this junction. He sets his jaw and decides to make a stop. Maybe they’ll know something at the college. 

They don’t. He has been gone a month. He’d just up and left one day after the end of the last set of courses. One of the professors suggests he tries the coast, he vaguely remembers a comment about salt water being bad for lute strings. So he heads towards the coast. He keeps his ears out for anything, any sign that the bard had come this way. 

It’s cold, even to him. He pushes onward. The snow is nearly knee deep anywhere off the road. He’ll be at the sea in another day or two. He sets his jaw in determination and freezes when it feels like a heaviness has settled upon his shoulders, around his neck. He looks down and can see nothing there. He looks around. Strange things like this had been happening since the boy had approached him. He feels foolish, but it does feel warmer where the weight is, like he is wearing a scarf. 

“Thank you.” he whispers to the wind and continues on. 

Two night’s later he’s looking out upon the sea. The winter moon reflects brightly in dark and turning depths. The stars are hidden behind clouds. He enters an inn and is given a room. As he lays there that night, he realizes he has no idea which direction to go, up or down. He growls into his pillow. Then he freezes, it feels like there is a hand on his face, more accurately like his face is being cradled. 

He sighs,“ I know you've come to the coast. I know I sent you away so you left me behind. I feel like I’m still standing on that mountain. How do I find you bard? Can you see my ghost? Hear it? That would be just right for you. You’d just be one of those rare cases.” He growls again staring at the ceiling. The feeling on his face shifts gently, like it’s trying to comfort or say something. The heat moves and rests over his heart instead. “I don’t understand.” He gruffs. “ I don’t speak in metaphors and allegories. I wish you could speak plainly. If you're even there. I can’t believe I am having a conversation with...”

He sleeps fitfully that night. He dreams of blue and yellow flowers, and of a town with a statue in its square. When he wakes he asks the innkeeper about such a town. She says yes, a few weeks down the road there is a town with a statue like that, she doesn’t know about the flowers though. She wishes him well, “Good luck hunting witcher” and turns away. He pauses, when was the last time he thought of killing something, of actively seeking out a creature, a contract. Suddenly he wonders how much time Jaksier has. He rides fast, as fast as he can to the next town. He sleeps little and eats less. 

The Bard doesn’t have any idea that the Witcher has been seeking him out. 

“There's a man in town, causing a ruckus.” She says gently, as she enters Jaskiers house.  
“That so?” He smiles from where he is sitting up in bed. “Leave the door open.”   
“Yes. He was just riding into town as I left. Kicked over some crates in a fit of rage after asking one of the men something. He seemed rather upset about something. Very strong too.”  
He looks at her and furrows his brow.   
“What did he look like? I'm sure he means no harm.” Geralt's spirit is nodding at him, encouraging, making gestures that seem to say “go to town”. He smiles to himself, defending the man even now. Even when he doesn’t know it.  
“White hair, it was long. He had a beard. He was wearing all black and had two-”   
“Go and get him. Tell him Dandelion wishes to see him. Go, quickly. He should be calm when you say that. Please. Go!” There is urgency in his voice despite it’s tiredness. She looks at him with shock.   
“Your soulmate.”   
“Please. His name is Geralt.” His voice breaks and she runs from the door. 

He tries to fight it but his eyes grow tired. He leans back against the headboard. A little nap wouldn’t hurt. But he wants to see Geralt, the flesh and blood Geralt. The spirit beside him is trying to keep him engaged. A warmth on his leg where his hand rests, keeps Jaskier grounded. But he knows there isn’t much time left. He knows today is his last day. He wants to see the sun on the ocean. Slowly he forces himself to his feet with a blanket wrapped around him. He holds himself against the wall for support and makes his way to the door. He smiles, and sits in the chair in his garden. His legs give out as soon as he makes it to the chair. He looks across the horizon, the sun will set with red and gold tonight, he can see the tinges of color in the air. It’s early evening. He smiles, and closes his eyes. He can hear a horse whiney nearby. He is proud of the witcher. So very proud. He sleeps. 

When the Witcher discovered the bard with closed eyes in the garden he panicked. He is loath to admit such, but he did. 

“Dandelion?” He calls, hurriedly dismounting Roach. Geralt kneels beside the smaller man and exhales a shaky breath, the bard is still breathing. He smiles gently. He looks to the woman that had brought him here.

“Thank you.” She nods. “I’ll watch over him now.”   
“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything. You should stay near him at all times. I mean no offense Mister Witcher sir, only I know soulmates can die even near one another if it's too late.”   
“I’ll stay close.” She nods and begins her trek back to the village.   
He brushes stray locks from Jaskiers face.   
“Stay with me. I’m here. Stay here with me.” He whispers gently against his head, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Wake up so I can apologize and then tell you off for coming to the coast alone.” He pulls away and lifts the bard, the wind is beginning to blow. The salt stings his nose some but he ignores it. He will ignore it forever for Jaskier. 

  
To pass the time, he tells stories to the sleeping bard, to the souls he isn’t sure are still there. Do they remain outside their bodies when soulmates are reunited? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. He tells another story, recalls another memory and laughs at their past antics. He shivers despite himself when it feels like fingers have traced his spine. 

“Damn it, Jaskier wake up. This isn’t fair. I won’t be alright if you don’t wake up. Jask. Please.” He stands and paces, keeping his back to the bard. He tries to focus on a different image and throw this one to the wind. “You’re light and I’ve let you become snuffed out. And I am selfish, how will I deal with people without you there to soften the blows, to fight for me?” He clenches his fists and his jaw. He’s very near crying, something he can’t remember having ever done. He never thought he would beg for someone to live and survive. He never thought he would need someone, but the thought of Jaskier dying, or it being his fault, it’s unbearably heavy. 

“You’re strong enough to live on Geralt.” Jaskier whispers gently, half awake. A small smile tugging at his lips. Geralt smiles back. He holds Jaskiers hand until he falls asleep again. He has hope that the bard is getting better. 

When the Bard finally awoke for good, it was to a very distraught witcher keeping vigil at his bedside. 

“I’ll live, Geralt. Now please, water.” The witcher obeys and retrieves a glass for him. He drinks slowly. Jaskier knows he will follow the witcher wherever he goes. But until he is well, he intends to make Geralt work for his spoken forgiveness. His heart has already forgiven the other. 

A few years later, Jaskier walks barefoot through the sand with a smile on his face. Geralt has been specifically asked for a contract. They don’t separate often, usually Jaskier follows him, but this contract is particularly tricky and Geralt doesn’t want him in harm's way. When they do seperate, for any length of time, it goes like this. 

“Will you miss me, like you did all those years ago? Like you did when you thought I was gone?” He asks looking up at Geralt who watches the sun set beside him. 

“I'm terrified, you’ll be gone.” Geralt responds, glancing down at him.   
“You won’t leave me behind again? Won’t send me away and act like you don’t care?”   
“I won’t, Jaskier. Never again.”   
“You’ll come back?”   
“I will. I will come back.”

When the Witcher returned to their home on the coast after his contract he did so with apprehension in his chest. It had taken much longer than he thought to travel there, dispatch the creature and return. Every step closer to their home on the coast was taken with dread.   
“If you're not here, I can’t carry on.” He whispers to the night air. His hope is fading, there is no candle lit for his return, no noise from within the house. He’s about to enter the house when a soft sound catches his ear, he turns, and there is Jaskier strumming his lute at the gate on the far end of the garden. He smiles and the bard smiles back. 

“Welcome home.” 

The Bard and The Witcher, never leave the other without the intent to return. Both parties are properly afraid of what might happen should they leave one another on such deplorable terms as that time on the mountain. More often than not the Bard finds reasons to tag along even on those dangerous contracts. He wrote a ballad about this event in his life, and he continues to write ballads among other things now. He sees others' souls as he had his own and offers them warnings and advice if they will have it. The Witcher does not stop him. 

The times have changed, and the world around them has shifted, but they still travel together, The Bard and The Witcher. They always come home to the coast when they can. For it is a special place for them, a place of survival and memory, of love and hope. I must leave you now, dear reader, for this tale has many more adventures to come. The night is growing late and my candle is burning low and my darling Witcher calls for me from the other room. 

P.S.   
I write this with my witcher leaning over my shoulder, dear reader, but I thought I ought to tell you that when your soulmate is a witcher you live as long as they do. What a pleasant surprise.   
I should leave you now, Geralt is being ne—


End file.
